A Not So Bad Drabble(s)
by dinochainsaw
Summary: For the winners of the A.N.S.L.R awards thing. Auswiss, GerIta, lots of Spamano, and USUK! Different prompts vary from baking to hide and seek to photographs and a wedding.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you serious?" Lovino asked, staring at his boyfriend like he was crazy.

"1, 2, 3..." Antonio began, his large and calloused hands covering his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me." The Italian muttered, rolling his eyes.

"4, 5, 6-Lovi, you have to hide somewhere before I get to 10." Antonio replied, his hands still hovering over his eyes.

"No, I don't _have_ to-" Lovino began.

"Please!" Antonio practically shouted, removing his hands from his eyes and turning around to stare at his boyfriend. "Please, please, please, please-"

"Fine!" Lovino gave in to the Spaniard's pleas. "But we're 21, you know. Not 5."

The Spaniard ignored the Italian who was currently muttering about how he was an adult and didn't want to play a game of hide and seek at all and placed his hands back over his eyes. He took a deep breath and began to count. 1, 2, 3. By 3, Lovino began to worry that he wouldn't have a place to hide in their small apartment. He scurried about the small room they called the living room-"in which they live" as Drake and Josh had once said-and decided that there was no place to hide. So he entered their small kitchen. Antonio must've sped up his counting once he heard the kitchen door close, because Lovino could hear him say the number '9' through the door's wood. Panicking, the Italian opened their pantry(that extended from the low roof to the tile floor) and hurried inside. He groaned. Lovino was pushed up against all kinds of canned foods and cereal boxes and whatnot.

"10! Ready or not, here I come!" Lovino could hear Antonio's footsteps travelling all over the house. Was it too easy? Everyone always hides in the closet or the pantry or under a table. It was just too cliché and obvious. The Italian began to panic, but immediately tried to calm himself. It was just a game. Why the hell was he so scared of being found. He heard Antonio round into the kitchen.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Antonio called. He glanced under the dining table then in some cabinets, as if Lovino could fit in those. The Italian's breath caught as he heard Antonio's footsteps stop and rest in front of the pantry door. "I knew you wouldn't be good at this game." The Spaniard laughed, flinging the door open.

"Well, shit. You found me." Lovino laughed a bit himself.

"Yup. And do you know what I win?" Antonio asked, his grin widening.

"I didn't know there was a prize." Lovino retorted. "Anyhow, what did you win?"

"You." Antonio whispered in Lovino's ear, swooping down and kissing him.

"You always had me." Lovino whispered back, crushing his lips against Antonio's once again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Vash!" Roderich called. He waited a few moments for his boyfriend to get down the hallway and down the stairs.

"Yes?" Vash asked once he was on the bottom step of the staircase, looking the Austrian in the eyes.

"Drive me to the grocery store, please." As demanding as Roderich sounded, he always remembered his manners.

"Why?" Vash questioned, already pulling on his boots and snatching his car keys that were hanging off of a thumb tack on the wall.

"Because I," Roderich stepped into his shoes and fixed his ascot, "am going to show you the art of baking."

* * *

Vash drove the both of them over to the local grocery store that was only a few miles away, with Roderich gazing at the window and thinking about whatever it is he thought about on their drives. Every once in a while, Vash would glance over at the Austrian. His face was highlighted by the sunlight bouncing off of the rolled up window before him. Vash could count the different shades of brown in his hair and the different variations of happiness in his eyes. Roderich never noticed the pair of eyes that were on him.

Smiling to himself, Vash would turn his eyes away from Roderich and onto the road ahead. But his attention was still focused on the relaxed and content Austrian leaning back in the passenger seat.

Finally, they pulled up in the parking lot of the grocery store. Vash parked as straight as he could in one of the spaces, knowing Roderich would get all fussy otherwise. Once Roderich decided he did a good enough job, they climbed out of the car and walked side by side into the shop. A large box full of watermelons stood next to a group of shopping carts, one of which Vash grabbed and began to push inside the store. Roderich followed behind him, eventually passing him up and walking a few steps in front of the cart.

"Okay, we need to go to the baking aisle." He announced, leading his boyfriend away from the entrance of the store surrounded by random fruits and vegetables and towards the baking ingredients aisle.

"Since you're a beginner, and cheap," this earned a jab in the elbow from Vash, who defended himself with 'I just like saving money!,' "We'll buy some of that generic cake mix."

"Okay, and?" Vash prodded, not wanting to bake altogether.

Roderich just grabbed a whisk that was hanging off of one of the shelves and began to walk to one of the numerous cash register lanes that were open.

* * *

"So, I just add 3 cups of water?" Vash asked, his voice a bit nervous. If he screwed up, they would've spent money on cake mix for nothing.

"Yes." Roderich confirmed, nodding his head. He stood back as he watched Vash pour the cups of water into the bowl, drowning the cake mix in the liquid. "Now just crack 2 eggs and put them in the bowl." The Austrian read off of the box.

Vash nodded and cautiously cracked an egg and dumped the yolk into the bowl. A piece of the shell got into the batter, and Roderich immediately freaked out, as if Vash had just accidentally shot someone. Roderich carefully poked his index in the batter and pulled out the shell, flicking it into the trash can and wiping the digit on a napkin he had out and ready.

Laughing at his perfectionism, Vash cracked the other egg and purposely dropped a piece of the shell in the batter and dripped the egg yolk on the counter. Roderich shrieked, elbowing his boyfriend in the arm quite hard before pulling the shell out and wiping away the yolk with a napkin.

"Seriously, Vash?" Roderich yelled.

"Oh, calm down." Vash replied, dipping 2 fingers in the batter and flinging the substance onto Roderich's face. Annoyed, Roderich grabbed some of the dough and threw it into Vash's hair with a laugh.

The whole ordeal escalated into a batter-flinging-fight of some sort. They chuckled as they flicked batter onto one another, throwing handfuls of the vanilla liquid at each other. Eventually they were both drenched in the batter. Roderich removed his glasses, the lenses covered with batter.

"Wow." The Austrian said. Vash nodded, suddenly leaning towards Roderich and licking some of the batter that'd landed on the Austrian's lips. Their faces heated up, and at once they both were grateful that their red cheeks were covered in batter.

"Well, it tastes good." Vash stated after a moment.

"Really?" Roderich asked.

Vash nodded. The Austrian smirked. He removed the space between them, crushing their vanilla flavored lips together.


	3. Chapter 3

Germany smiled at the frame he held in his hands. Within said frame was a photograph of Italy smiling-as usual, it was his normal bright and happy teeth-showing smile-and holding a gift box with a red ribbon on top of it. In the background was a measly Christmas tree, Italy had insisted on making his own, and so he grabbed a few twigs and a paper star and glued it all together. He hung some bells, a gift from his grandfather when he was younger, on some of the twigs. Italy's face was lit with joy and gratitude as he looked up at the camera.

Anyone else who might've looked at the photograph would wonder why it was framed and sitting on Germany's office desk. After all, it was just an ordinary Christmas photograph.

But not to Germany.

It meant so much more than that.

* * *

_"Merry Christmas, Italy." Germany smiled, for once in his stoic life._

_"Wow! Finland-Santa even put gifts under the tree!" Italy exclaimed. He looked just like a kid who actually got a pony for Christmas. Which, in a sense, was exactly what he was that day. He didn't get a pony, of course, but he got something just as amazing._

_"One of those," Germany paused, doubting if he should continue or not, "are from me." _

_"Really?" Italy squealed. He reached underneath the small tree-or should I say group of twigs stuck together with super glue-and pulled out every gift with his name on the 'To:' line. Ripping apart every shed of gift paper his small hands touched, Italy finally reached the present from Germany. He glanced at Germany as soon as he saw the small words 'From: Germany' on the tag._

_Germany had his camera at the ready. Immediately he snapped a picture of Italy, his grateful and joyous face completely captured by the flash. _

_He looked so perfect. The picture was just so Italy, and there wasn't any other way to describe it._

* * *

'Had it really been that long?' Germany wondered. It'd been decades since Germany and Italy had spoke. That Christmas had been their last one together before the war ended. After that, they never really saw or spoke to each other again. But whenever Germany caught a glimpse of Italy, when they just happened to glance at each other at a world meeting, he looked different. Not like he matured, which he did, but he didn't have the same warm and happy aura surrounding him. He seemed to be a bit more irritated every day.

If Germany hadn't known any better, he might've slipped up and called Italy "Romano" during one of their World Meetings.

Romano's crime rate had certainly risen, and Italy was growing more pissed off at the fact the stereotype of Italy was some mafia-ridden place. Every once in a while, Germany found Italy yelling at Romano for letting the crime rate rise. Germany hated seeing Italy like that, tense and nervous as if he was about to break and crumble if he did one thing wrong.

And in that moment, with Germany gazing fondly at the picture of Italy, he decided it was final.

"You!" Germany barked at a guard standing in front of the door. The man jumped, frightened by the sudden yell.

"Yes sir?' The guard asked, his voice shaky and nervous.

"Get me on the soonest flight to Italy now." Germany ordered, climbing to his feet.


End file.
